IS
2

“Dad! Daddy! Dad!” Alley commanded, for a third and more intolerable try to get my attention.

“What!” I mumbled, face down in my pillow.

“Mom said to get up if you want breakfast!” then a pause. “Mom said to—“

“All right!” I yelled, simultaneously turning over to once again face my ceiling, now bright as the day outside my bedroom window. Seeing Alley in my peripheral, I quickly turned to her and smiled.

“Better get up!” she said for a fourth and final command, then exited the room.

My smile made an exit too, as I again faced the ceiling, closed my eyes, and listened to the sounds of the morning, which had started without me. A dog barking somewhere off in the distance. Children playing, birds singing, a chainsaw buzzing-a chainsaw buzzing! The storm! I sat myself up, as anxiety flooded my chest with the bizarre memory of the night before.

“Honey?” yelled Corey.

“Not hungry!” I yelled back, as I was already on my feet and getting dressed. At least a pair of shorts and a t-shirt would constitute being dressed at this point in the day. The incredible aroma of bacon still hung in the air, making me question my decline for it, as I traveled barefoot through the house, making my way to the scene of the crime-or the event, as it were.

Sliding open the door wall leading to the deck, I stepped out and across to the far railing facing the school, sometimes painfully stepping on small debris of fallen branches. Hell, even a child’s broken squirt-gun became an obstacle at one point. “Hell of a storm!” I said playfully, kicking it aside and leaning over the top rail. My deck’s bump-out extended out far enough so that I had a bird’s eye view of my neighbors back yards, which were all adjacent to the school yard as well. And from what I could see, Mother Nature had left the remnants of her fury everywhere. Broken tree limbs, scattered garbage cans and patio furniture, and much more. I was immediately dumbfounded to see someone’s patio umbrella resting on my next door neighbor’s roof! We, on the other hand, had been terribly fortunate, with nothing more than some small debris scattered about.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Corey asked, from the opened door.

“Nah, maybe in a bit,” I answered, as I kicked both legs up and over the railing, landing carefully on both feet below.

“Wow! Aren’t you athlete of the day?” she said, with a wise tone.

“Smart ass!” I replied.

“Where are you going?”

“I just want to check something out. Have Shane get out here and sweep the deck off.”

“But where are you going?” she asked for a second time.

“I’ll be right back!”

“Nice answer,” she muttered to herself, as she turned back inside.

Walking across the overgrown and uncut field, I knew I would be front stage and center for all my neighbors to see. And as uncomfortable as this was, I felt compelled with a necessity to reach the very spot that I had seen him-and he had seen me. My God! How was it even possible that he saw me from that distance? It had to be at least a hundred yards or more, in the dark, with the wind and rain at his face. But he saw me, all right! And through the lens of my binoculars, he looked to be half that distance closer to me, with his daunting stare and smile.

As if the stare wasn’t demoralizing enough by itself—he smiled! This wasn’t anything close to resembling an act of kind gesture either. Oh no! This was an evil smile that ripped through my soul, right to the very foundation of who I was at that moment, compromising who I was to be shortly thereafter. And a third most haunting act was the raising of his arms. What conceivable explanation could there possibly be for him to do that? As if to be mocking Christ nailed to the cross.

I was getting closer now. And even though the sun was considerably hotter, my body began to shiver while the image was being replayed all over again, like a short video segment of some crazed lunatic set to some obscure play-list in my brain. I’m not really sure what I was expecting to replace once I reached my destination, but I now had—and there was nothing. After taking a short scan of the surrounding area, I began to feel somewhat embarrassed for even making the journey out there in the first place. Maybe just being in the same place I saw him would be enough reward. And as I began my hike back, I knew that for now, it would have to be.

Later that evening, we had plans. This was Summer Saturday, which simply meant that it was another Saturday night during the summer that we and our neighbors had chosen for a perfect excuse to celebrate life, complete with a variety of mixed drinks, an assortment of delicious foods, and perhaps a game or two. We would most likely follow our tradition by celebrating well into the midnight hour at any given location for that night.

Tonight, the Timmersons would serve as hosts, with their brand new built-in pool. This seemed to be the perfect locality for this particular night, seeing as how the temperatures would resist dropping below eighty degrees. Ah yes! Drinks at poolside would be just what the doctor ordered, and Scott Timmerson was in rare form with his Specialty Drinks of the Islands brochure being put to good use.

The kids were in the pool playing, and the alcohol was flowing. Loud voices and laughter were reverberating off the back of Scott’s house, echoing through the school yard and beyond with our merriment. Life was good at this time, and I had for the moment, forgotten everything wrong with the world. Then, with one random and unknowingly significant question from Dave Gust, I was back in the proverbial saddle once again.

“Hey Josh, saw you walking over to the school today; did you lose something in the storm last night?”

Having to think of an excuse quickly while being intoxicated has a tendency to sober you up a little, even if only for a moment. Luckily for me, Dave had practically answered his own question for me, or so I thought. “Yeah, I thought I saw one of the kids balls blow that way last night!” I answered.

“Find it?” he asked.

“Nope, sure didn’t.” Then a chill rushed through me as I soon became aware of a huge infraction with my story. The wind last night had been blowing in the opposite direction! I quickly changed the subject, hoping everyone was drunk enough not to realize for themselves, and call my bluff. “I see Bob Tasker got some new threads!”

Bob was about ten years our senior, and predominately stuck in the 80’s, at least as far as fashion was concerned. I once caught a glimpse of him cutting his grass in a pair of white parachute pants, and a Duran Duran Concert Tour t-shirt. No joke! He was definitely the odd neighbor. Not part of our special clique of friends, but our neighbor just the same.

Everyone laughed, and fortunately for me, the moment had passed. Then as conversations continued on, my mind was retreating to a place of its own; distant from the voices and other sounds around me, which had all faded to a quiet noise, just as the smile on my face had slowly diminished with the intensity of thought, focusing through the chain link fence and across the field to the dimly lit perimeter of the school.

Without losing my gaze, I asked Scott for a refill on my drink. Being here, surrounded by my good friends, a part of me wanted to disclose what I had seen last night, to maybe feel the strength of someone in my corner; an ally to help me figure things out. Or maybe at best, someone there just to let me know I wasn’t losing my mind and that there really was some crazy, smiling man out in that storm. But apparently, no one had seen him but me. And just how crazy would this all sound to them? Without seeing what I saw, how could they possibly feel what I had felt, or what I was feeling now? I guess the reason I was keeping this secret from my friends, was the very same excuse I harbored inside for not telling my own wife. I was scared; frightened of the repercussions that could exist with or without anyone in my corner. So with that thought, I knew the best thing for me to do would be to just write the whole thing off and to try to forget it ever happened. After all, assuming there would be no more incidents, it shouldn’t be that difficult to do—right?

The evening had been a great one indeed. The children had eventually retired indoors to play games, leaving the grown-ups who hadn’t retired with them to our late night quiet beneath the stars. And as the evening progressed towards morning, a few of us, including my own family, had bid farewell and goodnight to the remaining few.

Soon it came down to Scott and me. Slumped back in our chairs with a drink in one hand, and a half smoked cigar in the other. We sat there for what seemed like forever, in our drunkenness, discussing the problems of the world. And it wasn’t until I noticed Scott drifting off, that I told him we should probably say goodnight ourselves.

And as Scott looked at his watch, he announced that we should instead, say good morning.

“Holy shit, what time is it?” I asked.

To my amazement, we found it to be almost 2:30 am. We had been sitting for so long, that once Scott got to his feet, I had to grab hold of his shirt to keep him from taking an unplanned dip into the pool, which was a miraculous feat in itself, seeing as how I could barely stand myself.

“Thanks buddy!” Scott slurred.

“Think you can make it home okay?”

“Saved your dry ass, didn’t I?” I boasted. “Besides, I’m only three houses away. I’ll go out the back gate.”

For a man who had trouble standing, Scott seemed to have no trouble making haste towards his sliding door wall, and into the comforting surroundings of his house. So quickly, I barely had time to witness his departure by the time I had turned in his direction.

Hope he doesn’t get sick! I mumbled to myself, and then laughed out loud with the thought of it. I then took a deep breath, and tilted my head backwards to have one last look at the stars. The dark summer sky was littered by what seemed to be a thousand or more tiny white lights, all of them looking down upon my teeny, insignificant self. Almost losing my balance, I laughed at the thought of someone seeing me there, all alone and laughing to himself. Like some crazy fool who had forgotten to take his medication. “Or just a drunk guy!”, I blurted out to no one, as I lowered my line of sight to the gate that would prove to be the next obstacle in my journey home.

My head began to spin somewhat as I fumbled with the gate’s latch, trying all the while not to think of the remark I had made about Scott getting sick. Once I figured out the latch, I noticed the gate would only open a quarter of the way. “Thanks a lot, buddy!” I whispered, as the spinning became more intense, and I slid sideways through the opening.

Once outside the gate, I shut it and dropped to one knee, placing my right hand on the ground to somehow replace balance from the spinning. Then from behind me, in the field, I heard the tall grass rustle. Swimming in my inebriation, I was unable to place the distance between me and the sound. And as a chill rushed through me, I knew one thing for sure. In this early morning hour, with everyone I knew at home and in bed–-I wasn’t alone.

It was no longer just me and the stars. Instantaneously, my mind saw my bald, smiling friend once more. And he seemed to have me at a great disadvantage. For now I could only stay there on one knee, sick and frozen with fear. The grass was wet with dew under my touch, as I continued to remain motionless, waiting for his advances. The air kept silent, as if he were waiting for mine. I felt as though I would be sick at any moment, but there was no time for that now. I needed all my senses with me, and I needed to make a move as quick as my body would allow.

What was he doing? I could actually feel him watching me, as my ears began to ring with pressure building in my head. I looked up, trying to focus on the fence in front of me. I knew diving over it would be the quickest way to put something substantial between me and him. This would be my fortress, my salvation from whomever or whatever he was. But could I do it? I had to, and then what? Once over the fence, I was certain he would follow. I would need some sort of weapon; something I could swiftly grab to protect myself.

Just then, I heard the rustle of grass again from behind, and I was up. Falling into the fence, my plan had already gotten off to a less than heroic start. I quickly climbed up and over, vomiting as I hit the ground. Not pretty, but proud that I had made it over, just the same. Then back on my feet, I soon ran head on into the two chairs Scott and I were sitting in earlier, painfully tumbling once more to the ground. Then standing up, I turned with chair in hand, ready to defend myself. With my free hand, I slowly wiped the vomit from my mouth and chin, while cautiously scanning the yard for the intruder. The smell made my stomach convulse with the threat of another episode, as my dizzied vision locked on to movement far off in the distance.

As close as I could tell, it was a deer. Dropping the chair, I moved closer to the gate for a clearer view. It was a deer. And he had slowed his run to a gallop, once reaching the tree line at the far west end of the school yard, narrowly escaping the crazy-vomiting human.

“Fucking deer!” I gasped, falling to both knees and relinquishing my surrender a second time. Wiping my face again, I turned to the Timmerson house to replace it still dark and silent, just as the early morning which surrounded me, tranquil and oblivious to anything and everything. I was amazed, but mostly in pain. Not only from the trauma my bruised body had suffered, but my head was now pounding with a rage to bring even the toughest man to tears. I had a new quest; three Advil and a cool pillow.

As I made my way again through the narrow gate and along the fence line towards the sanctuary of my own home, I would have been correct to feel eyes watching me once more, from a distance, amid the shadows of the dark early morning. There was a presence, not of man or animal, but a presence nonetheless. It wanted–-it needed, and as it watched with inhuman patience–-for now–-it waited.